Dead America The Second Week (Book 8): Dead America: El Paso Part 3

by Slaton, Derek

  The redhead pursed her lips for a moment, and when she spoke her voice was stern. “That’s quite the tale there, but I’m inclined to believe you. However, that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here, or how you even found us for that matter.”

  Clara opened her mouth to reply, but the redneck in the window gave a whistle.

  “Ain’t you bein’ a little hard on that there girl?” he called.

  The redhead turned and looked up at him, eyebrow raised. “I’m just asking the necessary questions, Rufus.”

  “I know, and I’m all for it,” he replied, putting up a hand. “But it’s pretty damn clear she ain’t from Sonora. And since it’s within the realm of possibility she’s been fighting off the Cartel for the last week, I’m guessin’ she could use a little break. Don’t ya think?”

  The redhead smiled, features softening, and shook her head. “Even in this tough times, you still got a soft heart, old timer.”

  “Don’t go blamin’ me, you the one who melted it,” he replied with a wink.

  The woman turned and approached the newcomer, extending her hand. “I’m Lacy Sparks, but everybody just calls me Sparks.”

  “I’m Clara,” she replied, and shook firmly.

  “Nice to meet you, Clara,” Sparks said. “It seems as though you got the Rufus seal of approval, so why don’t you come upstairs and take a load off for a bit?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The upstairs apartment wasn’t decorated anymore, save for the homey curtains and a halfway decent living room set. Jeff had a camping grill in the corner by the window, some Spam sizzling on it, while Clara sat and chatted with Sparks and Rufus, and their other companion Mary.

  “So these motherfuckers have you running all over creation in search of alcohol?” Rufus slapped his knee. “Fuckin’ end of the world and y’all playing fetch.”

  Clara sighed heavily. “Preaching to the choir.”

  “I’m guessing there’s not a lot between El Paso and here?” Mary leaned back, crossing her legs.

  Clara shrugged. “We cleaned out the only town that’s really accessible without having a full scale army.”

  “Well, how in the hell did you find us?” Rufus asked, resting his arms on his knees. “Not like we’re out here advertising.”

  The younger woman pointed vaguely over her shoulder, as if motioning back to town. “That would be because of Leon,” she said. “He’s some sort of military intelligence officer and has a satellite uplink.”

  “Must be nice to have that kind of fanciness,” Rufus replied, rolling his eyes.

  She held up a finger. “In theory, yeah. But I’ve had two groups point guns at me today as a result.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” Rufus admitted, puffing out his cheeks for a moment. “Can’t be too careful these days.”

  Clara shrugged. “Hey, at least y’all are feeding me,” she said with a smile. “The group down in Marfa threatened to kill me if I ever came back.”

  “They seem like a fun bunch,” the older man replied, sarcasm evident in his tone. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard of anybody being crucified. Well, at least no recently.”

  “Mary!” somebody called from one of the bedrooms, his voice weak. “Mary, I need you.”

  She got up quickly from the couch. “Please excuse me,” she said, and hurried off to the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

  “Is everything okay?” Clara asked gently.

  Sparks nodded. “Yeah, that’s her husband Ricky,” she explained. “He… he took a bullet in the shoulder a few days back.”

  “Is he going to make it?” The younger woman pursed her lips.

  Sparks sighed. “To be honest, we don’t know,” she admitted. “We were able to get the bullet out, but we don’t really have the resources to handle a wound like that. None of us are doctors, but we’re pretty sure it’s beginning to get infected.”

  “We tried making a run into Fort Stockton, but that place has the biggest shitstorm I’ve ever seen,” Rufus added. “And I was in ‘Nam.”

  Clara pressed her palms together. “We have a doctor in Fabens. I have no doubt you’d be welcome there. To be quite frank, we are running low on able-bodied people, so y’all would really be a godsend.”

  Jeff headed over with plates, handing out the portions of fried Spam. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, “but I don’t think any of us are particularly interested in moving closer to the cartel.”

  “We had a bit of a rough ride at the start of this,” Sparks explained. “Lot of good people died.”

  Rufus raised a hand, and through a mouthful of food, said, “And a lot of bad ones too, thanks to us.”

  “This is true,” Sparks admitted.

  Clara dove into the fried canned meat, savoring every bite. She moaned as she chewed, closing her eyes and smacking her lips afterwards.

  After composing herself, she said, “Well, consider it a standing offer. I don’t know how much food you got in that truck, but I’d venture a guess and say it isn’t going to last forever.”

  The trio shared a glance, but didn’t reply.

  “Having you as a part of the community could mean the difference between you having a place to go when the truck runs empty, and you having to fight the Cartel on your own,” Clara added, and then shoved another generous forkful of meat into her mouth.

  Sparks sat up straight. “We’ll consider it.”

  “It’s all I ask,” Clara replied through a mouthful of food.

  Rufus shook his head. “I don’t know if we can actually move Ricky in his condition.”

  There was a moment of silence, and Clara set down her empty plate. “Now, I can’t make any promises, but some in my group are making a raid on a hospital today. If they’re successful, I might be able to bring you something to help your friend out.”

  “Oh yeah?” Jeff crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “And what do you want in return for that?”

  Clara shook her head. “Nothing at all.” She raised her chin. “I can see that look in your eyes, and I know what you’re thinking. The reality is, we have a monster on our doorstep who comes knocking on a regular basis. Frankly, it’d just be nice to know we have a friend out here.”

  Jeff nodded and sat down, digging into his plate of food as Rufus and Sparks stared at each other. Clara looked between them, not sure what was going on, but it appeared they were having some kind of silent conversation with their eyes.

  Finally Rufus stood, and headed off to one of the other bedrooms, the noise of rustling and clinking following. A moment later, he emerged with a large unopened bottle of tequila.

  “Here,” he said as he held it out, “I want you to have this.”

  Clara took it gingerly, eyes wide. “My goodness, thank you,” she said, voice thick.

  Jeff elbowed the redneck as he sat back down. “Breaking out the secret stash, huh?”

  “Well, like she said, it’s good to know we have friends out there,” Rufus replied, and leaned forward on his knees again. “Now, I’m gonna make you a deal. If you come back tomorrow with something that can help my friend in there get better, I’ll give you a case of that stuff.”

  Her eyes lit up, nearly bugging out of her head. She opened her mouth and closed it again, and then sprung forward, launching her arms around his neck. A case of high-end tequila would buy them weeks, or more.

  “Thank you so much,” she gushed as she pulled back from him. “I will do everything I can to get back tomorrow with something to help him. And if I’m going to make it back before nightfall, I should get on the road.”

  Sparks stood, extending her hand. “For what it’s worth, we’ll consider your offer to join you,” she promised. “At the very least, though, just know you have some friends out here.”

  “Thank you,” Clara replied, shaking her hand firmly, offering a smile that threatened to moisten her eyes.

  Sparks motioned behind her. “And Jeff, why don’t you wrap her up something to go? It’s
a long haul back to El Paso.”

  The skinhead nodded and headed back to the grill, grabbing up a can and a bag of chips.

  “Oh, almost forgot,” Rufus said, snapping his fingers, and headed to the counter to grab Clara’s weapons. “Come on, I’ll carry ‘em down for you.” They followed her outside, and got her packed up.

  She hopped into the seat and swallowed hard again, fighting back tears of relief at the treasures in her saddlebags. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she promised, and kicked the engine to life before peeling out of the parking lot.

  “So much for the quiet life, huh girl?” Rufus asked, and wrapped his arm around Sparks’ shoulders.

  She leaned into him as she gazed at the disappearing motorcycle. “Well, we’ve already fought militia and crooked cops, might as well add Mexican drug cartels to the list.”

  “We’re getting real close to apocalypse bingo,” Jeff added, and the three shared a chuckle before heading back inside.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Rogers, you there?” Trenton asked into the walkie talkie as he crouched by the entrance of the hospital. Reed checked his assault rifle, waiting with bated breath for a reply.

  “Read you loud and clear,” the Detective came back. “You boys ready to come rescue me?”

  “Yep, just tell us how to get to you, and we’ll be right up,” Trenton replied, tossing his own rifle at Reed to get it checked.

  “It’s straight through the main doors, then hang a left at the nurse’s station,” Rogers explained. “The stairs are down on the right, and I’ll be at the far end of the hall next to the horde of zombies when you get to the second floor.”

  Trenton took a deep breath. “How many of these things are we talking about?” he asked.

  “At least thirty or forty outside of where I am,” came the reply. “God only knows how many are downstairs or in the stairwell. The lighting is less than desirable, so I didn’t get a good look.”

  The younger man sighed. “Zombies in the dark, because why should this be easy?”

  “Because if it was easy, you wouldn’t have anything to bitch about,” Rogers replied, and the two boys shook their heads, smiling.

  Trenton scratched the back of his head. “Well, Leon said we got company headed our way, so we’re officially on the clock. You be ready to move when we get there.”

  “My bags are packed,” Rogers promised.

  “See you in a few,” Trenton said, and clipped his walkie talkie to his belt, taking his gun back from his partner. “So, what’s the story?”

  “Weapons are primed and ready,” Reed said. “We each have two mags in reserve, so we have ninety shots each.”

  Trenton nodded. “As long as there are less than a hundred and eighty zombies in there, we should be good.”

  His partner barked a laugh. “That’s cute that you think I’m good enough to score headshots reliably with this thing, let alone in the dark.”

  “Okay, spray and pray it is, then,” Trenton replied, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Just make sure you don’t shoot me when you’re doing that.”

  Reed grinned. “I’ll do my best, but no promises.”

  His partner shook his head and pulled out his flashlight, attaching it to the end of his rifle. Reed did the same, and then moved in through the front door, leading the way into the dim lobby. As they peered through the windows of the main hospital, there was a movement in the shadows.

  “I got left,” Trenton whispered, “you go right.”

  Reed nodded, and they burst through the door in tandem, moving swiftly down the hallway. Several zombies that had been aimlessly staggering about looking for Rogers whipped around to face their fresh meal.

  The duo stopped just short of the end of the hallway, taking a knee into firing position. They took careful aim and squeezed off shot after shot, Trenton taking out three zombies with perfect aim. Reed grew frustrated with his three on the right, and fired a dozen shots in rapid succession before they finally fell.

  “Christ dude, you good?” Trenton asked.

  Reed huffed. “Yeah, just. Yeah.”

  “You’re gonna have to go a little easier on the ammo there,” Trenton replied firmly. “We don’t exactly have a huge supply of it.”

  His partner reached to his belt and grabbed his two mags, handing them over. “These are going to be better used by you.” He flung the rifle over onto his back and drew his handgun, cocking it with a flourish. “I can handle this.”

  Dead moans echoed throughout the nurse’s station, putting both men on high alert.

  “Hallway,” Trenton hissed, and they crept forward over the unmoving corpses. The hallway towards the stairwell was full of at least a dozen creatures, staggering forward, arms outstretched.

  Trenton took quick but careful aim and fired, hitting the first one in the forehead, brain blowing out all over the wall. The next two fell easily as well, putting a significant gap between the nurse’s station and the rest of the group.

  “Move up,” he said, and led the way into the hall, opening fire. Zombies fell left and right, with only the occasional miss.

  “Where the fuck did you learn to shoot like that?” Reed demanded, stomping after his friend on their way to the stairwell door.

  Trenton just grinned and opened it up, pointing his flashlight up into the darkness. There was no sound or movement, so he led the way up the first flight, Reed close behind. At the second floor landing, he peered through the crack in the slightly-open door that had the broken latch. He shook his head at the huge horde of zombies jam-packed into the hallway, blocking off the pharmacy completely.

  He motioned for Reed to go back, and they crept down the stairs, closing the door behind them at the bottom.

  “So how the fuck are we doing this one?” Reed hissed. “Pretty sure even if I knew how to shoot, we’d get overwhelmed pretty quick.”

  Trenton paced back and forth, lips pressed into a thin line.

  “Trenton!” Reed demanded. “We’re on a clock man, what are we going to do?”

  His friend paused, focusing on something near the nurse’s station. He immediately stopped pacing and headed that way.

  “How much can you bench press?” he called over his shoulder.

  Reed threw his hands up. “What?”

  “Bench press,” Trenton replied, waving him over. “How much?”

  “I don’t know, two-sixty?” his friend said, exasperated. “Two-seventy?”

  Trenton grinned and reached behind one of the privacy curtains. “I can work with that.” He pulled out two wooden crutches, and tossed them on the nurse’s stand. He grabbed his knife and jammed the tip of the blade into the end of it.

  “Do I even want to know what you’re thinking?” Reed asked.

  Trenton shrugged. “Well, since you can’t shoot, you’re gonna hold them at bay so I can take ‘em out.”

  His partner scrubbed his hands down his face, the mere idea making his brain pulse. “So… just to recap, you want me to stab a couple of zombies in the chest with some crutches and hold the entire horde in place so you can pick them off?”

  “I mean, unless you have a better idea?” Trenton grinned.

  Reed growled as he watched his friend crack the second crutch, turning it into a pointed spear. “If we survive this, I’m totally taking tomorrow off.”

  Trenton barked a laugh. “You and me both.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Trenton and Reed made their way back to the top of the stairs, the latter in the front with the soft ends of the crutches braced into his shoulders. He took a deep breath and nodded at his partner, receiving a nod in return before rushing through the door.

  He took a few steps forward and then lunged at two surprised zombies, impaling them in the back. The creatures shrieked and flailed their arms, causing their brethren to turn around and survey the situation.

  Trenton stood a few feet back, aiming carefully with his rifle and then firing rounds, one by one. The corpses dropped
, but dozens more took their place, pressing into Reed’s personal space at an alarming rate. He struggled and pushed with all his might, using his weight and upper body strength to fling his shield zombies back and forth, attempting to knock over the advancing horde. Trenton continued to fire as quickly as he could while still being effective, landing headshot after headshot.

  “There’s too fucking many of them, man!” Reed screamed, taking a step back under the weight of the pack.

  Trenton’s rifle gave a dull click. “Switching mag!” he cried, releasing the magazine and slapping in a new one. Just as he did so, one of the crutches gave a foreboding snap and crunch, and Reed shoved it forward in a last-ditch attempt to send the ghouls stumbling backwards.

  With that hand free, he drew his handgun, aimed and fired into the shield zombie’s head, giving them an extra few seconds but leaving a gaping hole in their defensive line.

  “We’re not gonna finish ‘em off in time!” Reed yelled, even as Trenton began firing again, the zombies filling up the hallway even faster than before.

  He glanced over his shoulder, spotting one open door between them and the end of the hallway. “Keep ‘em at bay!” he cried, and tore over to it, lunging inside to give the room a quick sweep. “We’re clear! Get in here!” he screamed back into the hallway, and Reed shoved the impaled zombie into its friends before leaping back and running for safety.

  As he slid inside, Trenton slammed the door shut, pressing his back against it for good measure as a bevy of thumps hit it. Reed cursed under his breath, scrubbing his hands down his face as his friend pulled out his walkie talkie.

  “Rogers, you there?” Trenton asked.

  The Detective came back immediately. “You boys on break or something? I still see some zombies.”

  “Yeah, well, there were a few more than anticipated,” Trenton replied dryly. “We’re at the end of the hall in one of the surgery rooms.”